I woke up to the sound of a notification, followed by another, and then three more like my phone was trying to warn me of an incoming missile strike. I blinked, groaned, and rolled over to find the screen lighting up like Christmas had come early and brought drama with it.
Maya: "Girl, did you mean to tag him in that Insta story?"
Angela: "OMG go delete it before HR sees."
Ken: "This better be marketing genius or a cry for help."
I opened the app and nearly flung the phone across the room. There it was—me, mid-laugh, drink in hand, head thrown back on the bar patio, and behind me, unmistakably, Elijah, looking like sin and salvation in one button-down. The caption? “The drinks were good, the company was better.”
I had meant to post it to close friends only. I had not.
"Nope," I said
